


Important

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has a bad day and Blair reminds him what's important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Important

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Dark Cherry for the super beta. Many changes were made post beta, so any remaining errors are mine, all mine. Warnings for some mush and naughty language. I tend to have a pretty foul mouth. Slight mention of Star Trek: The Next Generation, and The X-Files. Yes, I know not to use olive oil on condoms when trying to prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases, but Jim and Blair are in a committed relationship and that isn't a problem, here. Also, I DO remember the alphabet, and am aware that I have skipped G and H, in the ABC universe. I promise to try to get back to them. Will grovel for feedback, and constructive criticism is welcomed. Thanks to everyone who has sent positive feedback on my little stories, it is greatly appreciated.

## Important

by Pink Dragon

Author's disclaimer: Carpe Blair. Carpe Jim. Oh, no, I was supposed to DISclaim, right? Shit. Well, here goes, not mine, no profit, no harm intended. 

* * *

I'm in the kitchen warming up frozen, left over chilli for dinner, and starting the cornbread, getting out flour and corn meal, shortening, sugar, milk, baking powder and salt. Oops, and an egg. There's a baseball game on TV, the Seattle Mariners, I think. It's a warm summer day, and I've got all the windows open, airing out the loft. Jim should be home any minute. 

It's Saturday, and he's making his monthly pilgrimage to Home Depot for god-knows-what. I told him if he let me stay home, I'd fix dinner, even though it's his turn. Home Depot is really more his thing than mine. The first time we went, he said we needed a p-trap and I thought a p-trap was something that went in the toilet, so now he doesn't make me go with him if I don't want to. He says I'm just a distraction. I consider that a compliment, that I can distract him, knowing how much he loves Home Depot. 

It's not really dinnertime yet, but we got up late, really late (grinning to myself now,) had breakfast for lunch and now we're ready for an early dinner. I measure and mix the flour, corn meal, sugar, baking powder and salt together and set aside, just like the recipe says. Turn on the oven so it'll be hot when Jim gets home. I pull another bowl out of the cupboard and crack the egg in it. Throw the shell in the trash under the sink, thinking about Jim. He fucking loves Home Depot. Like a kid in a candy store. I grin to myself. I measure out the shortening into a small bowl and put it in the microwave to melt. Measure milk into the bowl the egg is in and whip them together. Then the microwave dings, and I take out the melted shortening and pour it slowly into the egg/milk, mixing it as I go, so the egg doesn't cook. I spray the baking pan with vegetable spray, and everything is ready to mix together and shove in the oven. Just as soon as Jim gets here. 

I go in the living room and flop down on the sofa, my head on the arm, and one leg thrown over the back. And I just lay there awhile, watching the game, and dozing till I hear Jim's key in the lock. I sit up and he's inside now, shutting the door. Loudly. He drops several loaded plastic bags on the floor, just inside the door. 

"Hey, babe," I say, smiling at him. "Whatdja get? Anything I can identify?" Then I notice he looks like he's been to hell and back. And it looks like he's pissed about the trip. "What's wrong, Jim?" 

"Just don't start with me, Sandburg, okay? Why the hell I thought I could do one simple errand without it turning into a major pain in the ass is beyond me." He throws his keys toward the basket, and he misses, and he just leaves them there, on the floor. Oooh, this must be bad. He stalks to the kitchen, takes a bottle of water out of the fridge and downs the whole thing. He's got black streaks down the front of his shirt, and the knees of his pants are dirty, which reminds me of that old joke, "How do you tell the head nurse? She's the one with the dirty knees", but I don't tell it to Jim. And his hands are dirty, too. 

"Hey, what happened, man? You got grease on your shirt." I've followed him into the kitchen, gonna start the cornbread. 

"No shit, Sherlock. The truck blew a tire on the fucking freeway. I'm lucky to be alive. You should see the way some people drive!" Ooh, that is bad. He slams the empty water bottle on the countertop and leaves it there. 

"Didn't you just put new tires on the truck?" 

"Yes, I just put new tires on the truck." Giving me sarcastic. "Apparently one of them was defective." Lots of emphasis on 'defective'. 

"Ah shit, man. That's awful." I try to rub his back a little, but he pulls away from me and walks into the living room. Preparing for a rant. 

"Not only that, Sandburg, but I forgot to take the ATM card into the store with me, so I had to pay cash for all the shit I bought, and now I'm broke, so I'll have to make another trip out somewhere to get cash, with the truck running on the spare. And I'll have to take it in and get the fucking tire replaced, on Sunday no less, unless I wanna use personal time from work to do it on Monday. Which Simon isn't gonna like. And every fucking parent in the whole fucking state took their kid to Home Depot during naptime today. I never heard so many screaming kids in my life. Doesn't anyone hire fucking babysitters anymore!? I've got a headache that'd kill a fucking elephant! This whole afternoon is just totally fucked!" He's yelling now. 

I'm right. It's bad. It's Guide Time. 

"Hey Jim?" I pick up the bowl with the egg and milk in it. 

"What!" 

"Could you turn off the TV for me?" I dump the egg and milk into the bowl with the flour and corn meal. 

"What!?" 

"Turn off the TV, man." I've gotta get his attention. 

"Shit. Fucking tire. I oughta sue 'em!" But he goes over and turns it off. 

"Jim?" I'm stirring the milk stuff into the flour stuff, now. 

"What!" He's stalking around the living room, pacing. 

"Would you close the windows for me? And pull the drapes?" Edging towards the Guide Voice now, still stirring. 

"Why!?" 

"Could you just do it, please? For me?" Midway to Guide Voice. He snorts. But he does it. None to quietly. 

"Could you light those candles on the coffee table for me?" I dump the cornbread batter into the pan, scrape the bowl, and spread the batter out. 

"You just made me shut all the drapes, Sandburg, now you want candles lit cause it's dark!?" Still sarcastic. Standing there with his hands on his hips, glaring at me. 

"Yeah, man, could you do that for me?" Full Guide Voice, now. He snorts again, glares at me for another second, but he does it, shaking his head at the irrationality of Guides. I stick the pan in the oven and set the timer for 25 minutes. He's pacing again. 

He finally sees his keys on the floor, goes over and throws them in the basket. "Fuck. Fucking tires, fucking truck." 

"Jim?" I stack the dirty bowls and utensils in the sink. 

"What!" 

"Take your clothes off." We're getting to the good part here. I turn the hot water on and squirt some soap in the bowls. 

"What the fuck are you talking about, Sandburg!?" He stops pacing. 

"Take your clothes off. You've got grease on your shirt and your pants." I'm washing the bowls. 

"Oh, oh hell!" He heads for the stairs. 

"Jim?" 

"What!?" 

"Do it here? Please?" Still washing. 

"You want me to take my clothes off in the living room!?" Hands on his hips, glaring again. 

"Yeah, would you do that for me? Please?" Rinsing and stacking, now. Guide Voice turned on HIGH. And he starts undressing, down to his boxers, and puts his clothes in a tidy pile on the arm of the couch. "Everything off, Jim." 

"Why!?" 

"Would you just do it for me, please?" And he does, rolling his eyes. 

"What the fuck are you up to Sandburg?" Buck naked now. Lookin' good. 

"I'm gonna make you feel better, Jim. We've got 20 minutes till the cornbread's done. Think I can make you feel better in 20 minutes?" I'm drying the bowls and utensils now, putting them away. 

"Fuck, Sandburg." 

"Exactly, Jim. Get over here." 

"What!?" 

"Get over here, man." 

"What, we're gonna fuck in the kitchen!?" His cock gives a little jerk. So does mine. 

"Got it in one, big guy. I've gotta watch the cornbread. Now get over here." And he walks slowly into the kitchen, watching me all the way. And I move behind him, and put my arms around him. And hold him tight. And he's fucking vibrating with anger. So I rub my hands over his chest and stomach, up and down his arms. Just caress him, kiss his neck and his shoulders, and calm him for a couple of minutes. He takes a deep breath and sighs. Then I take his soft cock in my hand, stroke him gently, till he's hard. He's moaning softly now. 

"Aaah, God, Blair...." 

"Gonna remind you what's important, babe," I whisper in his ear. He groans, and leans back against me, his hands reaching back to hold my hips. "Bend over the counter, babe." Sentinel-soft whisper. Guide Voice on EXTRA HIGH, now. 

"Shit, Blair," he hisses. But he does it. Puts his arms on the counter top and lays his head on his arms. And the loft is quiet, and dark, the scent of the candles like honey in the air. Just right. 

"That's good, Jim." I move up right behind him, lean down over him, resting my cheek against his back, touching him everywhere I can reach, caressing his cock, kissing every bit of bare skin I can get my mouth on, rubbing my hands up and down his back, over his shoulders, down his arms, over his ass, and his thighs. I rub my head against him, and he groans at the feel of my hair against his skin. "That's so good, baby, so good. Just relax and let me make you feel better, baby." 

"God, Blair, do it..." he hisses, Guide-soft. He knows I'll hear. 

"It's okay, baby, you just had a bad day. Let me take care of you, babe, I'll make it better, okay?" I move back a step and reach for the olive oil, open it and pour a little on my fingers. He's watching me, and when I reach for him again, he spreads his feet apart, and arches his back, pushing that sweet little ass toward my hand, he's panting, trembling, and hard, so hard. "God, Jim, that's so good, so sweet, babe...." I push one oily finger inside him and he groans again. I lean down over him again, resting against his back, my mouth against his skin. Wrap my other arm around his waist, and push another finger in his ass. "There, babe, we're together now, everything's gonna be okay, baby." 

"Want you Blair, want you inside me...." He pushes back against my fingers, and I thrust them in and out, slow and gentle. 

"I know, babe, I know...." And I keep stretching him with one hand and caressing him with the other. And I keep talking to him. He's still humming with tension. "This is good babe, huh? Feels good, huh baby? This is what's important Jim, us, together, just us, man. Not the truck, not the tires, not the job or Simon or the fucking ATM card or the screaming kids. This is all we need man, just this, just us..." And he's fucking himself on my fingers now, pushing back then thrusting into my other hand around his cock, and breathing hard, and I take a half-step back to watch him. He looks so fucking beautiful, pushing back against my fingers. Muscles tensing and releasing, slick sweaty skin sliding over them, glistening in the low light. 

"God, Blair, now, baby now!" He's begging. He begs so prettily. How can I refuse him? So I unbutton and unzip my jeans, pull my seriously-hard-on out of my pants. 

"Condom, Jim, get a condom...." We don't use condoms anymore, so he looks at me kind of funny, but he reaches over, pulls open the drawer where we used to keep them and rummages around till he finds one. "Put in on me, babe..." So he does. Then his kisses my stomach, and turns around and leans against the counter again. My good little Sentinel. I spread a bunch more olive oil on the condom and press my cock against his tight little hole, and he shoves, hard, against me, and I'm inside him, just a couple more thrusts and I'm all the way in. God he feels so fucking fantastic. 

"Aaah, Jim, so good, baby...." I lean back down so I'm resting against his back, both arms around him, thrusting slowly, touching him everywhere. "What's important, Jim?" 

"Aaaw, God, Blair...." he whispers. He's starting to relax, a little. 

"What's important Jim?" He knows the answer; we've been here before. 

""This," he hisses, "this is important...." 

"What about the tires?" I whisper, moving inside him, slow and sweet. 

"No, just this, God Blair..." His hands are clenching into fists, clenching and releasing. 

"The tires aren't important?" Kissing his beautiful pale skin between words. 

"Fuck no...." 

"No, what, baby?" I cup his balls in one hand, squeezing very gently. 

"Not important... The fucking tires aren't important... shit Blair...." 

"What about the ATM?" I ask, stroking his cock now, spreading his pre-come with my thumb, around the head. 

"Not important..." He moans, low and deep, and thrusts hard into my hand. 

"What is important?" More kisses, all across his shoulders. 

"You Blair...." 

"What about the screaming kids, babe? Are they important?" 

"Noooo...." 

"No, what, baby?" Fucking him, steady, even thrusts. 

"Not important..." 

"I'll go with you to get the tire replaced...." I talk to him softly, with my mouth against the skin of his back, so he can feel it as well as hear it. 

"I know you will. Harder, Blair...." 

"Who loves you, Jim?" I twist his nipple. 

"Aaah, you do..." Groaning, pushing back against my cock. 

"Who do you love, baby?" Pinch the other one, hard. 

"Love you, Blair..." 

"Who else, baby?" 

"Nobody but you...." 

"What's important, Jim?" More sweet, sucking kisses on his back. 

"This...." He's almost boneless, now, trembling with need, rather than anger. Oh, yeah. 

"What, Jim?" 

"This, us, together, just us, Blair...." 

"Not Simon?" 

"Fuck Simon...." 

"No, baby, I only wanna fuck you. Simon can get his own Guide." He makes a choking/laughing sound deep in his chest. "What's important, baby? Are the crummy drivers on the freeway important?" 

"Fuck no, not important, just you Blair, I'm gonna come, Blair, please let me come... please...." 

"Go ahead, baby..." And I aim for his prostate, give several deep, hard thrusts, and he shoves back against me and howls my name... 

"Blaaaaiiiiiire...." And he comes into my hand, and God, I'm so close, it's all I can do to keep from coming with him. But we're not done here, yet. And he's still panting and gasping, leaning against the counter. Then the fucking oven timer goes off and I pull out of him, and I reach over and slap it off, hard. Luckily with the hand that isn't covered in come. So I grab the dishtowel and wipe my hand off. And we both laugh, and Jim says "you're buying me a new dishtowel, Sandburg," when he catches his breath. And after a minute he stands up, a little shaky, turns and reaches for me. I take a step back. 

"No, Jim." 

"What?" Confused. 

"Take the cornbread out of the oven." I'm standing there, fully clothed, with my cock in my hand. Trying not to come. 

"Oh, okay." And he does, puts little matching oven mitts on both hands and reaches in and takes it out and sits it on top of the stove. He looks really silly wearing nothing but oven mitts, but I'll never tell him that. He pulls them off and turns to look at me. 

"Suck me off, babe," I whisper to him. I've rolled the condom off and tossed it aside. See? I planned ahead. "We've gotta let the cornbread cool for five minutes." 

"God Blair...." he chokes, laughing again, and he immediately drops to his knees in front of me. 

I've still got all my clothes on; just my pants unzipped, and pulled down far enough to get my cock out, and he's naked in front of me, on his knees, looking up at me. And it's just about the hottest thing I think I've ever seen. And he takes my cock in his hand, and leans forward, sucks just the tip into his mouth, gets it good and wet, then pulls back just far enough to say "fuck my mouth, Blair...." and Jeeeezuuusss, that just about does it. He jerks my jeans down enough that my ass is bare, and puts his hands there, on my ass, and holds me where he wants me, and lowers his mouth onto my cock again. And he sucks, so fucking sweet and gentle, looking up at me, watching me while I fuck his mouth. And I lean over a little and put my hands on his shoulders, and watch him watching me, and in about 30 seconds I'm coming in his mouth, screaming his name when he sucks hard, at just the right second. Then I slowly collapse on the floor in front of him, and he pulls me into his lap. And we wrap our arms around each other, and he holds me till I can think again. 

"God, Blair, that was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen...." He's nuzzling my neck. Sucking gently. I can feel his smile. "Take your clothes off." And I laugh. I can't help it. And then he laughs, and then we're both cracking up, flying on endorphins, and he's undressing me, throwing my shirts over his shoulder, and I'm letting him. And soon we're sitting there, on the kitchen floor, both naked, warm skin on warm skin, kissing, arms around each other, me in his lap. "I love you," he whispers to my shoulder. 

"Love you too...." 

"Thank you." 

"What!?" 

"For making me feel better." 

"Oh, okay. My pleasure." And we're chuckling together now. Then he takes my face in his hands, rubs one thumb along my cheekbone, and he kisses me, slow and deep and wet. And we sit there, on the floor, naked, while the cornbread cools, necking like teenagers. 

And finally I start to get cold, so we get up, and eat the cornbread and the chilli, and Jim's relaxed, affectionate, happy, sweet. And when we go to bed that night, he holds me tight, me spooned against his chest, while we're drifting off to sleep, and he says, "This is it, Blair." 

And I answer, "What, babe?" Holding his hand over my heart, kissing his knuckles. 

"This is the most important thing in the world." And I smile. I know exactly what he means. 

"I love you, too..." I answer, and then he snuffles into my hair, breathing deep, and then he's asleep. 

And Sunday morning he wakes me up with the sweetest blow job I've ever had, and we go to the bank to get cash out of the ATM, and we go get the tire replaced, and we go out to lunch, then we come home and make love on the sofa, then we go upstairs and take a nap. I wake him up with the world's second sweetest blow job, then we have some more chilli and cornbread and watch Star Trek: The Next Generation and try to imagine Tuvok having sex. Then we watch The X-Files, and we argue over who would be the X-Files top, he says Mulder, Mulder's the star of the show, he should get to be the top, and I say no way, man, Skinner, definitely Skinner. And all in all, it was a nice Sunday, and he's right, this is the most important thing in the world. 


End file.
